


The Northern Star of Asagao City

by ghostlerhost



Category: Asagao Academy: Normal Boots Club
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Cigarettes, Enemies to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Guns, Mafia AU, Multi, Oracles, Tobacco use, Violence, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-03-20 09:01:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18989497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlerhost/pseuds/ghostlerhost
Summary: His heart was devoid of celebration. Tired eyes rested on a crystalline ball, engrossed by the ever-weaving tapestry of fate.





	1. The Oracle

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [asagao city never sleeps](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18861100) by [cheapsushi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheapsushi/pseuds/cheapsushi), [lotsofdreamboats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotsofdreamboats/pseuds/lotsofdreamboats). 



  His heart was devoid of celebration. Tired eyes rested on a crystalline ball, engrossed by the ever-weaving tapestry of fate. Images of misfortune was waved away from the facets of crystals; A bullet passing through flesh, tears shed; Vengeance rising in a hoarse voice, demanding bloody retribution.  
  A.P. Benjamin Gymer settled into the velveteen cushion beneath him, masking his eyes behind a screen of shadows and beaded strings of gold decoratively pinned to his hood, a deep turquoise length of fabric draped over his head.  
  Asagao City's inexhaustible buzz of people and cars and vitality bled through the purple fabric of his extravagantly large yurt, rattling his bottled livelihood sitting on his shelves. He was relieved of the smell of exhaust that swirled with cigarette smoke, incense spared him of such grievance.  
  Fate was his, held betwixt his be-ringed fingers to rasp with those entangled within the intangible fibers as tools.

  He sealed his eyes, subjecting himself to the concentrated stream; countless visions bled into the nothingness and strangled the city noise. Each breath was the birth of a vision.

  Words were sung with cherubic solemn.  
_"Story,"_  
_"Murder,"_  
_"Lover,"_  
_"Canary,"_

  His mind settled gracefully, resonating with a brief moment of divine enlightenment.

_He will meet the canary soon._


	2. The Canary

Willing silence accompanied the hushed ambiance of Asagao City. A.P. Benjamin Gymer, silent with his prophecies; awaited the approach of the canary patiently. His eyes followed the draperies that flowed down over the yurt’s entrance and fell onto the suspended pendulum by his side.  
Golden accents begged for attention, collecting dusts in the crevices.

Past the gold glow humming off the pendulum the draperies were carefully pushed aside by a delicate hand, fingers curling over the fabric and gathering it together. A small lady ducked into the yurt; Her face illuminated by the warm glow of candlelight gave the haunting resemblance of a living porcelain doll, fragile and threatening to break behind a solemn face full of purpose with brilliant pink hair clouding her brows and spectacles and pulled upwards into a practical bun. She quickly glanced around, her eyes tracing the intricate patterns of beads and fabric and trails of smoky incense through the lenses of her specs before settling onto him. Hopping into the heart of the yurt, stepping over cushions and carefully removing her shoes she sat herself down.

"Hello." She said briefly before setting her shoes aside.  
Gymer simply smiled.  
"My name is Hana Mizuno," she offered her hand out to Gymer, "Pleasure to be of your acquaintance."  
His hand fell upon and covered her own. He bowed his head, blessing her with the jingling beaded strings and gestures.

Hana gasped, bringing a free palm to her chest.  
"Oh!"

Slowly rising back up, Gymer released her palm, allowing it to steadily drift back to Hana.  
"Can you speak?" After a pause, she added "Mr Oracle" out of simple respect.

Gymer raised his hand, gathering his fingers at his lips and carefully pulling the unspoken thoughts of his missing voice away.  
"Oh." Hana deflated. "You're mute, how will this go about?"  
As if he was already prepared he reached down under the small table interposed between them then bringing them back, revealing a planchette cradled in his hands, the viewing glass refracting the warm light against his skin. He carefully placed it into Hana's hands and pulled down on a silken corner, sliding off the table's coverings to present engraved letters and words and numerals.

A spark of childlike wonder glimmered within Hana's eyes and brought air into her lungs. "A spirit board!" She traced the intricate letters with her fingers, "This is posilutely darb!"

  
The moment passed and Hana positioned the planchette on the board, lightly pressing the pads of her fingers against its edge with her breath held. Gymer gently pressed onto the planchette and guided her to his silent voice.  
 _"A. P. Benjamin Gymer, Pleasure to meet you Ms Canary."_

Making a confused face, she responded, "Pleasure to meet you too, Mr Gymer."


	3. The Story

The arrogance to them, their hats tipped down with palpable haute pride; sprung forth an embittered voice.

Their collective idiocy burgeoning out stifled the flow of visions- Vacuous babbles and dins deafened him to the divine voice of enlightenment.

"Tell 's more 'bout th'future!" One would howl, issuing in a chorus of two drunken men still reeking of death's smell chanting "More, more!"

He would turn his cheek and hide his clenched teeth behind his hood.

He had no desire to engage with them.

 

Gymer steadied himself, planting himself in the current millisecond, receiving his acute awareness of reality and time and senses. His sealed eyes opened to the hushed tintinnabulation and approach of the city's sickly breath of car exhaust and cigarette smoke and illegal alcohol from his yurt's front, falling upon a smartly dressed man in a black vest, collared button-down shirt and black slacks speckled with red. His once white shirt stained orange in the wash of lantern light. His brows were hidden behind a black hat, its brims curled and crown creased lengthwise; leaving his strong jaw visible.

The man reached for his hat, lifting it off his head and smiling listlessly.

"Hullo" he said, tugging at the curled brims and adjusting his hat on his head as he slipped off his shoes, "Are you- Are you the oracle, Ms Mizuno spoke of?"

Retaining his practiced clarity, Gymer nodded, bowing his head in quick prayer.

"I like your place, Mr Gymer, sir." The man settled himself down on a cushion, "It's lived in- I like it, yeah." A silent bell went off in his mind as he quickly offered Gymer his hand. "Luke Sizemore, pleasure to be of your acquaintance, sir."

 

The humbled respect surprised Gymer, pulling a faint smile upon his face. Taking Luke's hand, he gave him his blessing.

"Oh- cool." Luke chuckled, taking his hand back after the blessing with a smile, "I'm not here for the divinity thing, I just want a place to relax other than a bar."

Gymer lifted his hand, twisted his hand slightly and gently prodded an index finger into the air.

 

_"I understand."_

 

"So, would you like a story?"


	4. The Murder

The extravagant pop echoing from the heart of Asagao City's darkness distracted Gymer from the concentrated stream.

Voices, loud and excitable, bled through the Yurt's walls.

“Oh **God!** ”

The lamentation rose and fell like a police's siren, rise and fall, rise and fall.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, **Jeff!** " Vengeance rose in a hoarse voice, crackling with a future lost, "Jeff, stay with me doll, **Jeff!** " The harrowing break for a gasp shattered into a wail.

"Oh dear God, **No!** " The disembodied voice turned away, screaming at the city's apathy, "I'll kill you- **I'll kill you all** , you sick sons of bitches!"

Gymer bristled. Fate entangled him into itself as a witness, forced to endure the cries for bloody retribution that fell upon deaf ears.

"You'll pay for this- the whole lot of you **murderers!** "

**Author's Note:**

> the askblog: https://the-northern-star-of-asagao-city.tumblr.com/


End file.
